


Withdrawals

by luxurypurses, Myrida



Series: The Wonderful, Kinky and Romantic Love Story of Elim Garak and Ekor Laset [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cultural Differences, Difficult Communication, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Everybody is doing their best, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Polyamory, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-21 05:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15551010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxurypurses/pseuds/luxurypurses, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrida/pseuds/Myrida
Summary: Garak is having a difficult time, and Julian pays a visit. He clashes with Ekor, who is doing his best to take care of Elim. Arguments ensue, accusations are flung, truths told, and bites exchanged.Set before Premiere Night, during Ekor's and Elim's time on Deep Space 9





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story was created as part of an ongoing text-based roleplaying thread on tumblr. We are both very much in love with these characters together, and we decided they deserve their own stories.
> 
> Julian's parts were written by luxurypurses, and Ekor's parts were written by Myrida. We hope you like the result, please enjoy!
> 
> If you're curious about them, please feel free to find them on tumblr!  
> Elim is at [garaksass](https://garaksass.tumblr.com)  
> Ekor is at [conducting-cardassia](https://conducting-cardassia.tumblr.com)  
> Julian is at [notfromnature](https://notfromnature.tumblr.com)

My Dearest Beloved,

You’re having one of your difficult days today; I recognised it even as you woke up and your eyes would slip every now and then, staring into nothing – except I was right there. You don’t know how I wish I could do something about it all.

I know you’ve been suffering from Withdrawal, and I wish I knew what it is that you’re lacking. I wish that anybody knew, so that they could tell me. I knew when I was gone, that your withdrawal was likely due to the shock of my sudden departure. But now I’m here, sitting right next to you, and there is nothing I would like more than to be able to help you.

They’re _unspecific_ , your withdrawals, aren’t they? Those are the hardest to fight, and I have merely ever had a small taste of them.

I would like to think that it makes a difference: that I bring you your tea and sweeten your breakfast. That I help you get out of bed if you can bring yourself to it, or that I sit with you if you can’t.

You fall so very silent then.

I sometimes muse that it would be easier if there were tears, but if silence is all you can offer, then I will take your silence and cradle it within myself, just where I keep all of our memories.

I know how much you detest being trapped in this state. I’m proud of every moment you let me see you like this, every moment you let me take care of you. You’re mine, even if there is nothing about you that you deem worth my while. I assure you, _all_ of you is worth _every second_ of it, and more.

I know it doesn’t register as relevant right now, but I love you with all my being, not in spite of what you are, but _because_ of it.

I know your hardest fights are fought in complete silence. I know your most hard-won victories sometimes are the few steps you take from the bed to the bathroom.

Never feel ashamed, my love, never feel inadequate.

I do not know if I will send this letter, but for now, I will end it. You’ve just asked for me, and I think I would like to play some music for you.

As you are mine, so am I yours,

Always.

Ekor


	2. An Untimely Visit

Julian made a routine visit to Ekor and Elim’s shared quarters. Ordinarily, he knew when he was welcome, but he had not heard from either of them in several days. His first thoughts, in such cases, were always about Elim’s wellbeing. He had not seen Elim in Ops that day. 

Ekor’s eyes were heavy and tired when he admitted Julian to the cabin he shared with Elim, sighing. “Doctor… Julian,” Ekor corrected his slip back into the formal.

“I didn’t see Elim in Ops today,” Julian observed. “Is he here?”

“He’s asleep,” Ekor replied, his lips pursed in irritation at the blunt inquiry, “and I will _not_ have him disturbed.”

“Is everything alright?”

Partially hopeful of being of service, Julian had brought a basic kit along with him, and he raised it in indication.

“Withdrawal,” said Ekor, turning away reluctantly to invite Julian further in. “He hasn’t slept in two days.”

Julian sat down at the table with his kit, demonstrating a physical promise that he would not intrude in their bedroom. It was good to hear Elim was resting, although Julian had never known him to display such concerning sleep patterns _before_ he’d met Ekor. Before his mind wandered into anything malicious, he realized Ekor was, perhaps, the only person capable of allowing Elim the vulnerability of a night of rest away from work; Elim had probably been silent about this affliction in the past, and cared for himself minimally, with even more questionable methods than now.

“As brilliant as you Cardassians are,” Julian said, “you’ve got some terrible habits. I mean, you can’t dismiss _every_ mental illness as ‘Withdrawal’ and then ignore it. You can’t just... _refuse_ to treat it correctly because you write off the effects and know nothing about the causes. Elim is clearly suffering from more than ‘exhausting service’ or whatever you care to call it.”

He stood up, but remained beside the table.

“That is a barbed compliment, if I’ve ever heard one.” Ekor’s voice was deceptively calm. Elim was sleeping in the other room, so they had to be quiet.

He wasn’t expecting complete understanding -- but he had not opened that door to be insulted to his face, and Ekor had had just about enough. “We’re ‘brilliant’, so long as we conform to your way of doing things,” he said under his breath.

Ekor was exhausted. Caring for Elim was a duty he performed readily and with his soul bare -- but days like that took their toll, even on him. He’d sat with Elim for hours and had stroked his hair until he had finally fallen into a fitful sleep.

And so, even though never raised his voice, anger was simmering below the surface. “A lecture on how we do things all wrong really is the very last thing I need right now, Julian,” he said too evenly. “Nor do I need to hear how I’m _ignoring_ Elim’s withdrawal, or how my care is _incorrect_.”

The accusation stung more than Ekor would have thought.

He couldn’t deal with this now. He was closer to the end of his own tether than was good for any of them, but what was there that he could possibly do? He felt helpless in the face of Elim’s illness, and misunderstood and betrayed by the one person who knew enough about their situation to even begin to offer support.

Oh, he knew he wasn’t being completely fair in judging Julian a traitor -- he knew that if Elim’s state deteriorated, Julian would drop everything and do anything in his power to help.

But there was no getting around the fact that Julian’s dismissal of his efforts hurt. “Do I look as if I’m ‘writing anything off’ to you?” he ground out between his teeth. “Do you even have any idea how much seeing Elim’s _withdrawal_ \---” he emphasised the offending word out of pure spite, “how much it hurts me to see him like that?! It feels like I’m being flayed _alive_ , but there is all but _nothing_ I can do about that, so I _take_ it and _swallow_ it, because if there is one thing I won’t do it’s to let Elim down.”

His voice had taken a very deep, very low timbre that betrayed just how close Ekor was to an emotional outburst.

“So don’t you dare... don’t you _dare_ come to me with that smug, superior attitude and argue semantics with me, _Julian_.”

"It's not that simple, _Sir_ ," Julian snapped, before shaking his head, clenching his fist, and forcing himself quiet. "It isn't an attack on you or the care you do provide, but it runs much deeper than semantics. There's a cultural divide here that needs to be addressed. I…”

To show he was being reasonable, he returned to his seat on the chair opposite Ekor's. He had already set out his medical kit on the table between them, but Ekor had not acknowledged it, and did not even seem grateful for the help. Julian had dealt with difficult patients before - Elim, in most cases, in fact - but this was new.

"I can't stand to see Elim in this state," he continued. "I can't bear it, it hurts me. Does that matter to you? I know we could provide better care to him, if you'd stop ignoring that possibility.”

He dove with both hands into his kit, mostly to occupy himself so he did not stretch their tempers any thinner. But it was difficult, because he loved Elim - and Ekor, too - and was struggling with a cultural disparity of his own. 

Of course, he knew Ekor owned Elim, by law, but he truly did not like it. 

He found it distasteful, on the grounds of creating situations like this. Generally, he did not need to acknowledge it at all, or he could pass through the subject with a polite nod of agreement before shoving it out of mind altogether. How was he meant to provide care to someone whose legal partner and sole authority did not even believe such measures were necessary in the first place?

"You're ignoring the possibilities," Julian said, making a great effort to sound calm. He felt as though he was dealing with a child who had scraped their knee, and was more afraid of the dermal regenerator than the cut itself. "Elim is _depressed_ , but you haven't thought to call it that. And he loves you, and it means a lot to him - I know - for you to be so... steady. But there are a dozen approaches which might benefit him more. He could have guided discussions, counseling, any number of medications... homeopathy, more exercise, different lighting... I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'll be quieter.”

He wondered if any of his apology had stuck, so to speak, as he frowned into his briefcase. Nervously, he fiddled with the handles, picking them up and then setting them down, smoothing his fingers over the indentations. Ekor turned his head toward the bedroom, and Julian knew that if Elim was stirring, if they had been too loud, no one would ever forgive him, himself included.

"I'm sorry to say it, but would those measures make you feel inadequate? That's the problem, isn't it... Ekor, I care about both of you. Let me recommend Elim for evaluation... you can accompany him to every appointment.”

“Inadequate?” Ekor almost laughed. Bitterness was welling up inside him, and it tasted like bile. “It doesn’t really matter how any of it makes _me_ feel,” he said under his breath, “now, does it?”

He knew he was right. It _didn’t_ matter, not when it came to Elim’s health. As a matter of fact, jealousy and pride had nothing to do with his misgivings at all -- but this, right here, was a perfect example of why he had them in the first place: Julian was too used to being right.

Often, this was with good reason, but when he made snap judgments like this, he tended to have his mind all made up, for right or wrong, and that was _dangerous_.

“If you _must_ know, that’s not it at all.” Ekor said more viciously than strictly necessary. “I _know_ I’m inadequate, and I don’t need anyone to belabour the fact. I will feel no more or less so if I let you apply whatever method you’re proposing... if anything, I’ll feel _guilty_.”

He spat the last word in the direction of Julian’s hands where they disappeared into his medical briefcase, as if both the word and the thing itself disgusted him.

“It matters that you love Elim, but _surely_ you must know I do, too.”

Oh, it _hurt_. In these long moments, loving Elim hurt like needles to the eyelids.

Ekor swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was thick with an unspeakable, terrible emotion: “I want Elim to be well. I want him to _become_ well, but I do not.” His throat closed up, and he felt his eyes begin to burn. “I don’t. Want him. Experimented on.”

As he continued, Ekor felt himself beginning to shake. “You’ve got your mind all made up about this ‘ _depression_ ’, nevermind that no Cardassian has _ever_ been diagnosed with it. You’ve got a whole arsenal of medications all neatly lined up to be tried, a fair number of which, I am sure, are designed to alter a person’s brain chemistry--- but have any of them been tested on Cardassians? Have there been any studies at all? I’ll tell you, Doctor: there haven’t. Because Cardassian bodies are not open to being studied by just anyone with a medical license. Not even you, Julian. How would you even _begin_ to understand how some substance would interact with a Cardassian brain, if it’s never been tried? Something that might not harm mammalian brains could, I don’t know, do _serious_ damage to ours. How would you make sure that that’s not going to happen to Elim?” He gripped the countertop hard, to try and keep himself together.

“ _And how do you imagine I could live with that?_ ” he whispered, hating how weak his voice was.

Elim had been through so much already, both physically and mentally, and if anything happened to him, Ekor knew he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. He knew that _that_ would destroy him.

“I live with the pain of experimentation _every day_ ,” growled Julian. He didn’t particularly want to explain, and he didn’t want to seem selfish. No, he could wait; this was about Elim.

He took his hands out of his case, empty, and stretched his fingers.

“And... I appreciate your concern, but I do have experience with Cardassians, and Elim in particular. Has he told you about his implant? I’m sure he has…”

He balanced on the verge of feeling selfish again, and spoke softly.

“I deactivated it safely, and all he suffered was a week of _genuine_ withdrawal. That was a drug, Ekor, and Cardassians are _obsessed_ with them.”

He had run into numerous cases in his few years on DS9: Elim’s implant controlling his reception of pain, mood altering psychotropics, cosmetic injections, memory suppression and supplantation... the list wore on.

“Yours are _all_ designed to alter mindsets, Sir,” Julian said. “But at least mine do it safely.”

Ekor was achingly sincere in his concerns, Julian knew that. And he knew their shared love for Elim was a powerful one. But he still hated to think that Elim was sleeping restlessly in the other room, mumbling and muttering and having nightmares. The same as he failed to sleep, he failed to walk and to eat and to care for himself, and to focus and voice his thoughts. It gave Julian another idea.

“Sir,” he appealed, “why don’t you try meditating with him? The Vulcans have some wonderful techniques - I’m sure you’re familiar with a few of them, at least - and it might allow us some insight into the way Elim is feeling, when he cannot find the words to tell us…”

That gave Ekor pause. Perhaps, if the doctor could monitor him, he might be able to find out more, before starting on any more invasive treatment plans.

“It wasn’t _safe_ ,” Ekor said at last, and then, when Julian did not understand immediately, he added, “when you deactivated the implant. ”

Before Julian could protest, Ekor held up a hand, stopping him from speaking. “If he’s been truthful with me, there were complications far beyond ‘simple’ withdrawal. If he has told me the facts, he would have certainly died if you hadn’t gone and involved yourself with the head of the Obsidian Order…”

Was there a flicker in Julian’s gaze? Ekor couldn’t be sure, but he felt himself relax minutely, loosening his hold on the counter. “It wasn’t safe,” he repeated. “So don’t try to tell me otherwise... But... I know you’ll risk everything if something bad happens to Elim while he’s your patient. I know you’ll risk your own life to save his... and that means if I had to put Elim’s life into the hands of a doctor, I would choose you.

“But I do not feel comfortable entering Elim into medical treatment based on a diagnosis that is unheard of in Cardassians. Isn’t it possible that the symptoms look similar to your ‘depression’, but the cause is different? Can’t you at least hold off until you know a _little_ more?”

Oh, but it must be _hard_ to do that, Ekor thought, if one had Julian’s medical knowledge and tools at hand. If he were in Julian’s shoes, wouldn’t he try to do _anything_ in his power to help Elim?

And what could he, Ekor, do, that he wasn’t already doing? Again, helplessness began to choke him up.

Maybe, if he could try and guide Elim into a meditative state? But could he do that? It was one thing to learn Vulcan meditation techniques, but another to teach them... but then again, if anyone was qualified to know what kind of obstacles a Cardassian attempting it would have to surmount, it was probably him.

“Maybe we _could_ try a Vulcan technique... I’ve found them helpful in clearing my---”

Ekor stopped, listening.

“Elim has woken up,” he said with a pang of regret.


	3. A Difficult Patient

“I’m sorry, I’m... sorry, that’s my fault.”

He shook his head and thought about leaving altogether; there was nothing else he could do, nothing Ekor agreed to _allow_. How much assistance could he offer, if all Ekor did was hold Elim and keep him company? Julian sighed, quietly.

“We can try that sometime,” Julian said. “I would observe him and see how he is affected...”

He was wary of beginning it immediately - he wanted to research the meditation further himself - and did not want to even present the option just yet.

“I should go, Sir, I’m sorry...”

As he sealed his case and stood, Elim arrived in the doorway, trudging forward with some determination, holding up one shaking hand in an attempt to explain himself. He fell heavily into the seat beside Ekor, and burrowed immediately into his arms while Julian watched.

“I’m sorry, Elim,” Julian said. “The last thing I wanted to do was wake you.”

He had sedatives with him, and compounds to reduce anxiety, and he had tried both with Cardassian patients before, but they were worthless now. Instead, he went to get a thick blanket from the guest bedroom, crisp and clean, and he draped it over Elim’s shoulders to steady him.

“Stay.” Ekor pressed a kiss onto Elim’s crown. His hair was dull and needed washing, and his scales were looking too pallid. These, at least, were things that Ekor could take care of. “Please,” he added softly, sneaking a hand around Elim’s soft midsection, and looking up into Julian’s eyes.

“It isn’t just your fault, Julian. It’s ours.”

It was true -- they should have known better than to argue right next door to where Elim had only found sleep after far too many hours of waking. They might have gone to another room, or left for a while entirely. And if all that should fail, they should have kept their voices down.

Elim stirred in Ekor’s arms. His throat was working as if he was trying to speak, but no sound came out, until he slumped in defeat and stared dejectedly at a point somewhere in midrange.

Ekor’s soul screamed in agony as he gathered his beloved pet in his arms. “No, shhh... you’re not at fault, little one,” he choked, stroking Elim’s shoulders and back, hoping to soothe him.

He did not know if he was successful.

Gently, he cradled Elim’s head between his hands and kissed his forehead, noticing his chufa’s rubbery texture under his lips. “When was the last time you drank something, my love?”

Elim only gave a shrug and sighed. “S... sorry, S...r,” he managed, but Ekor wouldn’t hear of it.

“It’s alright, little one…”

But inside, he was hurting. Something needed to be done, and Ekor was beginning to realise he probably wasn’t equipped to do it. Not alone.

“Julian,” he said softly, “would you mind bringing some hot water or tea for Elim? And then, I think we should talk.”

“Right away, Sir,” he said, excusing himself to the kitchen replicator.

Part of him was grateful to hear Ekor ask for help, even if it was not the type of help Julian had come over to provide in the first place. It told Julian that Ekor’s pride was not wounded by Elim’s state, and that his love truly was more motivating.

In the kitchen, he called for a pot of tea, and he returned with this and two cups. They preferred to physically boil their water, but Julian was in no mood to wait. If Elim was noticeably dehydrated, he was in worse state than Julian thought. Ekor could not do everything alone.

He passed the cups to Ekor, filling them one at a time and leaving them on the low table in front of the sofa. Ekor held one to Elim’s lips and had to help him even to drink it, rubbing his shoulders and kissing his head to encourage him. When the first was empty, he took the next, and Julian patiently ensured they remained full.

“Are his scales that dry, Sir?” Julian asked, waiting for permission to touch Elim’s arm. If one pinched together the folds of skin, his hydration would become clear.

“Ah-ahh,” Elim sighed brokenly when Julian touched him, and found him out.

“He’s been confined more than the two days I was led to believe,” Julian said, careful to speak only to Ekor. It reinforced ownership, but it also did not pressure Elim to speak if he was not ready. “Has he eaten? Bathed? I can help, Sir; you must be exhausted.”

“What do you mean, ‘confined’?” Ekor narrowed his eyes at the doctor. Were they back to this? Animosity, accusations and insinuation? And what did he mean by ‘led to believe’?

Ekor shook himself out of it. Now was not the time, nor the place for personal sensitivities. “He’s eaten... three and a half hours ago,” he answered instead, “but not drunk enough, and he’s been awake for 52 hours straight, except for the past hour…”

Ekor felt miserable speaking of Elim like this -- as if he weren’t even present. As if he were a _thing_. Of course, to a casual observer, it would seem that he spoke of him like that often, and liked it that way. But then, a casual observer wouldn’t know the difference between engaging in an act for the pleasure of feeling the power inherent in it, and doing the exact same thing because one was forced to do it. Out of necessity, and the exact opposite of power. Impotency.

Ekor only hoped that Julian was a better than casual observer, and wouldn’t start leveling accusations of hypocrisy on top of negligence and pride.

Sighing, he pressed the pads of his fingers into the hollow under his orbital ridges as Elim finished the second mug of tea. Perhaps he did need a bit of rest himself. “I... I am tired, thank you, Julian. It would be nice if you could help with Elim’s bath a little -- Elim’ik... little one, would you prefer a cool or hot bath right now?”

Elim only shrugged, burrowing his head into Ekor’s chest. Ekor stroked him gently, before placing another cup of tea in his fingers. A cool bath would possibly wake him and energise him, Ekor thought, but he knew Elim needed sleep foremost.

“Make it a hot bath, and... there are some scented oils that might help him relax... or, if you want to stay with Elim for a bit, I can run the bath myself.”

“I’d... prefer to stay with Elim for a moment, if neither of you would mind.”

He glanced to Elim and could not help including him in the offer now; it must have been demoralizing otherwise, Julian thought, if it went on too long. Elim was awake and seemed alert, and Julian would value his input as much as Ekor’s now.

“You might be better suited to arranging the oils, anyway,” Julian went on, “not that I couldn’t manage, but…”

Ekor accepted and nudged Elim up and off of his chest, directing him to Julian’s care. Julian felt a pang of reluctance as Elim snuggled up to him, more out of necessity than desire, or so it seemed.

He wrapped his arms around Elim’s shoulders and kissed his head, as Ekor had done.

“Are you in any pain?” Julian asked.

He reached for Elim’s hand and squeezed it in illustration:

“One for no, Elim, two for yes, alright...?”

Elim squeezed once, and Julian smiled softly at him, then he lowered himself so Elim could lay more comfortably atop him.

“I can’t stop _thinking_ ,” Elim admitted quietly.

Julian heard the water rushing in the other room, and soothed Elim when the sound startled him.

“I understand,” Julian said. “But you know Ekor and I will take good care of you...”

Elim squeezed his hand twice, and then apologized for being unable to vocalize himself any more clearly.

“We’re going to get you a nice relaxing bath, and we’re going to help you fall asleep so you can have a _break_ , Elim. You need to rest.”

They stayed quiet for a while, together, squeezing each other’s hands purely for sensation, and when the water switched off again and Ekor called for them, Julian helped Elim walk into the bathroom.


	4. Intrusions

On Cardassia, there was a kind of coniferous tree that grew on the outskirts of the desert wilderness. It only bloomed every eight years. The blossoms themselves were neither pretty, nor particularly useful -- but for two years after the bloom, those trees would produce fragrant essential oils that were precious and highly sought after for their scent and calming effect.

As Ekor turned on the hot water valve and water began to fill the tub, he sat down on the rim, holding the bottle of oil in his hands and staring into the distance.

Suddenly, it was too much. Ekor squeezed his eyes shut against the burn that started just behind the lids, groping blindly behind himself for the door controls.

They slid together with a hiss that, together with the cascading stream of water, covered Ekor’s sob as he doubled over in pain, fighting for control, and losing.

He did not make another sound as he sank to his knees; only his laboured breathing and the tight clench of his muscles would have given him away, had there been anyone there to see it.

He lost track of how long he just knelt there, fighting to get his strength back, silent sobs shaking his frame every now and then.

The tub wasn’t yet half full when he pulled himself upright.

He had his Elim to take care of, and he would not allow himself this... _indulgence_ now. Wiping his eyes angrily, he dedicated himself to the preparation of his Elim’s bath. He checked the temperature and emptied a few caps of the oil into the water, breathing in the soothing scent that immediately began to rise from it.

 _Cardassia_ , he thought as it hit his glands and evoked the image of harsh, living landscapes under the hot midday sun.

Ekor gave a little smile to the tiled wall above the bathtub. He was still shaken, and he knew he sorely needed to take care of himself, too, but for now, he felt a sense of purpose return and shake off the terrible helplessness and futility. For now, he would take care of Elim’s needs, to the best of his ability.

He dimmed the stark overhead light, to make room for the gentler colours of the illuminated mosaic works adorning the corners of the room. This was all his Elim’s work, and it was beautiful.

“Come, little one,” he called softly, “your bath is ready.”

Elim stood, slowly, looking up at Ekor. And then something clicked into place, as he held Ekor’s gaze and Ekor recognised this expression and understood. He had seen it countless times, and it only ever meant one thing: _Please, give me an order, Sir_.

Ekor knew Elim wasn’t aware of what he was asking for, but for that brief second, his eyes had spoken more than he could have himself, with words. Ekor gave a minute shake of his head when Julian made to guide Elim.

“Steady now, little one, just walk to me... not too fast, you’re exhausted. Just... there, that’s it.”

When Elim stood in front of him, Ekor beckoned him close, until they were almost touching. He leaned his cheek against Elim’s for a second, then pulled back enough to speak softly at his ear.

“Take off your robe, Elim’ik. Undo the belt first, and then pull it off your shoulders, first the left, and then the right.”

Elim blinked a couple of times, but Ekor knew his command had registered from the way Elim’s breathing evened out and he began to follow it to the letter.

“Drop it to the floor.”

Everything was slow and silent, but soon, the robe pooled around Elim’s feet and he stood there, naked but for his undergarment. Ekor ordered him to lose that, too, and then to get into the tub and sit back.

Nothing could have been more precious than the grateful smile Elim gave him as he stretched out his legs in the tub. “Thank you, Sir,” he offered.

Ekor knew he didn’t have a voice to answer with, so he took one of Elim’s hands instead, and kissed the fingertips gently.

As he watched this exchange, Julian had to focus himself on abstaining from interrupting. Ekor was speaking quietly but firmly, and Elim did not argue any of the commands; he obeyed them immediately, gratefully, and it gave Julian pause. Foremost, because the commands were not unlike any Julian might give a difficult patient, although he doubted his tone would remain as calm as Ekor’s in such a case.

Elim slid into the tub and Ekor kissed him, and the line Julian was thinking along blurred itself somewhat, but not irreparably; being the chief medical officer had required him to care for individuals he knew closely, sometimes intimately.

He blinked to clear his thoughts, and accepted use of a stool Ekor offered him, arranged at the head of the tub. Ekor, meanwhile, clambered and knelt to the side, reaching within to rub a sponge over Elim’s pectoral ridges, drawing up his arms one at a time to lather with soap. When Ekor finished with the soap, he passed it to Julian, who poured some into his palm and then massaged it into the thick, scaled plating that covered Elim’s neck and shoulders. The soft point of his nape was usually off limits to Julian, so he avoided it carefully, and continued his way down as low as he could reach over the tub ledge, scouring the base of Elim’s shoulder blades. This drew a quiet, appreciative moan from Elim, and he rolled his head forward, sighing pleasantly.

“Elim just mentioned it to me, Sir,” Julian began, after a tender silence, “and I thought you should know, also. He says his thoughts are racing, and I imagine he’s having trouble focusing on any one of them long enough to voice it. I think your use of commands was... probably very helpful for him.”

Elim whimpered, making an almost-affirmative sound before tapering off again.

“I also think,” Julian added, “I may have been hasty in trying to give a diagnosis. These are intrusive thoughts, and he’s more than likely obsessing over them, and if I were observing a human patient, I would attribute those more to anxiety than to depression. But I’m not a counselor, and I understand if you don’t want him to see one any time soon…”

“Intrusive thoughts,” Ekor repeated, pausing. He contemplated the thought for a few seconds. “They’re known to happen, sometimes,” he finally said, “especially when dealing with traumatic experiences.” He himself had suffered intruding thoughts after what had happened on the Tal Shiar station near the Cardassian border -- and still did, occasionally.

He’d never heard of intrusive thoughts being that unspecific, nor that crippling in effect, but he wasn’t an expert.

“Lift your feet out of the water, sweet one,” he instructed, patting the rim to indicate where Elim should put them. “Julian. Will you wash Elim’s feet for me while I tend to his hair?”

They shifted places. Julian began to lather Elim’s feet, while Ekor poured some hot water over his head and started massaging shampoo into his scalp, clearing the grime from Elim’s hair.

“I would like you to... examine him, Julian. As unintrusively as possible, but... we need to know if...” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. If something wasn’t working right? Sometimes, a mind could lose coherence; the patterns at its core could literally start to dissolve…

Ekor knew that was a very, very rare condition, but he was worried. Who knew what kind of side effects Elim’s past mental training would have under the right circumstances? There was so much about him that simply wasn’t covered in any books Ekor knew of, and the thought scared him terribly. “We need to know,” he repeated, not meeting the doctor’s eyes.

Instead, he focused on Elim’s hair, the filament limp and wet between his fingers as he tended him gently.

“I...” He sighed, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand in order not to get soap into them. “I want what is best for my Elim. You know that, don’t you?”

Julian didn’t react at once. Instead, Elim turned his head to face Ekor.

“I know, Sir,” he said, kissing his suds-covered palm with his lips.

Ekor slowly returned to his task, rubbing little circles into Elim’s nape with his thumb.

“You’re precious to me, my little one. So precious, and…” I _hurt_ when you do, Ekor thought but didn’t say aloud. “... everything is going to be alright. We will conquer this, little pet. I _promise_ I will be with you every step of the way.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Ekor. All of that,” Julian eventually replied.

He was relieved to know Elim would get the examination he needed, to ensure nothing else was wrong, and he was... happy? Closer to melancholy, he supposed, to hear Ekor was motivated to provide this, only after being _forced_. If he were in Ekor’s place… He cut himself off. He had his chance with Elim before, like this, and he tried to let go of the memories without displaying resentment.

“But you should sleep after we’re finished here, Elim,” Julian spoke to him directly. “I can bring some equipment in the morning; we can do most of it while you’re asleep, if you prefer.”

Ekor was still quiet - perhaps _vacant_ , Julian thought, exhausted - but he did not seem to be troubled about anything beyond Elim’s condition. That was good, Julian thought, and he proceeded, trying his best to be helpful to both of them.

“I’m, um, finished here, Elim,” he said, squeezing softly at one of his heels. “You can soak them again, thank you.”

Julian reached into the water on his own discretion and began to scrub a set of lathered bristles over Elim’s knee-scales. He knew perfectly well how much... the word was not ‘abuse’... how much _use_ these got, how often Elim was kneeling and waiting for attention. He did not know how it made him feel, so he scrubbed them for a long while, so he could think it through.

Ekor shot Julian a sharp warning look as he silently watched him start to handle his pet, his most prized possession, without so much as a by-your-leave. Throughout the entire exchange, Ekor had grown more and more tense and irritated. He only snapped himself out of it when Elim winced as his fingers snagged in his hair more roughly than necessary.

Loosening his grip immediately, he bowed his head in apology to his pet. “Forgive me, my love,” he muttered, swallowing hard. This was not the time for displays of territoriality, he reminded himself as he reached for the shower head and began to rinse Elim’s hair.

But oh, he was bristling inwardly. That Julian would _dare_ to exclude him from his conversation with Elim, that he would dare to touch him unasked, that he would consult with him as if Ekor was not in the same room with them -- Ekor was fuming.

“Is tomorrow morning acceptable, Sir?” Julian asked, as an afterthought, “or would you like me to bring a scanner back immediately?”

“Tomorrow will be perfectly fine,” Ekor said a little too brusquely.

What made it _worse_ was the fact that other than skewering the man with his eyes, Ekor was completely powerless to do anything about it, because he would not lower himself to fighting over this in front of Elim. It would be the height of tasteless egotism, unworthy of any Cardassian. The very _last_ thing Elim needed was to feel guilty over causing his Sir distress, directly or otherwise. 

And Ekor knew Elim would feel devastated if he knew.

But it was Julian who was acting against every protocol that existed for these kinds of situations, everything that they had mutually agreed upon, and he did so while Ekor was effectively neutralised -- had he been Cardassian, Ekor would have no doubt about his intentions.

If he wanted to insinuate himself between Ekor and Elim, he could not have chosen a better time.

As it stood, Julian had practically stormed their quarters, had evaded and ignored Ekor’s questions -- had literally accused him of confining Elim and of lying about his wellbeing, and had never answered when Ekor called him out on the fact that removing Elim’s implant had been anything but safe.

And Ekor had just about had it.

“Stand, little one,” he said gently, helping Elim up and putting his hands on his shoulders for stability. He carefully parted Elim’s cheeks and cleaned between them until he was satisfied, and then applied the same gentleness to his seam, sealed and well protected by his scaling.

Ekor gave it a chaste kiss before fetching a towel.

As he wrapped it around Elim’s shoulders, he felt his wrists begin to shake. _No_ , he thought, _not now_... but he couldn’t help it. Something was about to give, and Ekor didn’t know what to do. “Help me,” he whispered, not trusting his voice.

“...Sir?” Julian asked hesitantly. “What’s the matter?”

He felt the faintest twinge or guilt as he nearly stumbled over the tub to the other side, rushing to catch Elim in his arms in case Ekor backed away. He could not guess what Ekor was feeling, or what he needed help with, but Elim seemed to be the most logical option. And the most selfless, Julian recognized.

“I’ve got you, Elim. What’s the matter, Sir?” Julian repeated. “Do you need to sit down? Can you make it to the bedroom?”

Careful to keep Elim’s towel in place, Julian allowed both of the others to rest their weight on him, and he guided them into their private bedroom. He was allowed in on invitation, but for now, it was the closest and the most comfortable, and he needed his patients to have it.

He helped Elim to recline on the bed while Ekor waited, stoic, ensuring his partner was cared for first and foremost. Part of Julian admired this, _exuded_ this, and he stayed quiet. Then he went to retrieve his tricorder from his kit in the living room, and he scanned each of them for any causes of distress. They were exhausted, but he knew that already, and the tricorder did not readily show any other emergencies.

“Will you please lie down, Sir, and tell me where the pain is.”

“No.”

Ekor did not elaborate. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the mattress and took Elim’s hand.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked softly, stroking unmade but clean strands of hair back from his forehead. He would take care of laying Elim’s hair once woke up again.

“Sleep now, little one,” he muttered, “you need to rest. I know...” he paused. “I know you’ve gone without sleep for longer than this, but still... would you like a hypo to help you fall asleep?”

Elim nodded and kissed Ekor’s hand.

“Thank you, Sir,” he said.

Ekor wasn’t sure what Elim was thanking him for, but he smiled and gave him another kiss before getting up.

Before he left, Ekor fixed Julian. “Unless there’s medical reason not to, you’re going to give Elim something to help him sleep. And then you and I are going to have a talk.”

“I’m glad you finally recognize that,” Julian muttered, trying to sound genuine but not coming off that way at all.

As _ordered_ , he left to prepare a mild sedative for Elim, arranging the Cardassian-tested solution inside a hypo. When he returned to the bedroom, he showed it to Ekor first, before pressing it to Elim’s arm and releasing the mechanism.

Ekor did not leave with Julian right away, but instead spent a long while arranging the pillows and blankets around his pet, kissing him often.

“Sir?” Julian prompted gently.

This time, they thought better of having their discussion close by, afraid of waking Elim up yet again. They went into the guest room and Ekor shut the door behind them.

“I can’t possibly be in trouble,” Julian remarked, “ _he needed help that you couldn’t give him_.”


	5. Breaking Point

“In _trouble_?” Ekor almost laughed. “I’m _livid_ right now, so think again, Julian. Yes, you are in trouble, and if you think I don’t _know_ Elim needs help, then you haven’t listened to a word I was saying. Rokassa juice, hot!”

Ekor punched the wall next to the replicator and didn’t even wince as he hurt his wrist. His body was flooding with adrenaline, and he felt no pain. “I’ve _asked_ you to provide that help! I’ve asked you to examine him, I’ve asked you to monitor him when we’d try meditation, I’ve asked you to help him sleep, because I damn well knew he needed it and I couldn’t do that! All I ever wanted was for him to be _safe_ , and that’s why I asked you to hold off on the diagnosis -- and it looks as though I was _right_ , too.” It didn’t matter that he was raising his voice now, as Elim was sleeping under medical influence, and there were three bulkheads between them.

“I _asked_ you to give him medical help, Julian, but you were just too caught up in your... your _jealousy_ , to realise that. You would rather accuse me of confining Elim, insinuate I abuse him, and _lie_ to me about the safety of your treatment -- which I knew about, and I _still_ asked you for your help! You would rather call me negligent and prideful than admit what is _really_ going on!”

Ekor cradled the hot mug between his hands, silencing Julian with a look. “No, I’m not _done_ yet.”

“Do you know what your problem is? You don’t know what you want, and you don’t separate your professional life and your private life--- no, don’t even _try_ to deny it! I’ve seen how you looked at Elim back there! I _know_ that look because I see it everytime I look in a thrice-condemned _mirror_ ! Yes, you’re right, Julian, I can’t give him all the help he needs, so whether you can see it or not, I did ask you to help, I asked you to share my most private sphere, and you...!”

The scent of the rokassa juice was heavy and its temperature searing hot in Ekor’s mouth. He took a few breaths, and continued in a calmer, but no less dangerous tone. “You don’t have the right to do this anymore, Julian. What you just did breached all the protocols that you agreed to uphold. You excluded me deliberately, you touched... you _handled_ Elim, beyond his medical needs, and beyond what I had allowed you to do. And what is more, you used my silence and your medical license to do it, right in front of me.”

“That’s...” Julian clenched one hand into a fist and quieted his voice, “that’s a reasonable observation and I... I didn’t intentionally seek to hurt you. I know you care for Elim, I just... don’t always agree with your methods. But I realize now isn’t the time to argue about that, and we should be more concerned with Elim’s wellbeing than with one another...”

Julian paused and turned his thoughts inward.

“And... hell, if he _wants_ what you do to him, I guess I shouldn’t be arguing it at all.”

He only saw beauty in their dynamic sometimes, when it was performed as play. But if Elim was well and consenting, he realized he had no place to argue; he knew what pressure Ekor was under.

“I’m sorry that you’re exhausted, Sir,” he went on, more politely, “I won’t force you into anything else.”

“What… what _I do to him_?”

Ekor didn’t know how to react to Julian’s admission. He had been gearing up for a fight, expecting Julian to hit back with equal force. Seeing him suddenly so defeated instead was... anticlimactic and humbling.

“My goodness, Julian...” Ekor sighed at length, rubbing his temples. “If that’s really what you think of me, you must be hurting so badly.”

He offered Julian his mug, but the doctor made a face at the prospect of drinking rokassa juice, so Ekor turned and produced a cup of Tarkalean tea for him. “I didn’t know you had... so many fundamental misgivings, still…”

Of course, Ekor knew Julian had been almost violently opposed to their relationship in the beginning -- but then he had been able to observe them more, and had gone on to even fight his Commanding Officer for them, and finally he’d asked them for a place of his own in their dynamic... Ekor truly had believed that Julian had accepted them for what they were to each other.

To learn that it wasn’t so was... heartbreaking. It wasn’t disappointing as such, just profoundly saddening.

“Here...” Ekor pushed the cup into Julian’s hands before drawing back and covering his mouth with his hand.

“I... I don’t know what I can do to convince you that I’m not... doing anything to Elim that he doesn’t want or need,” he said after a while. His voice was trembling again, but Ekor didn’t care anymore. He felt naked and vulnerable, but perhaps that was alright. “... Or that what he wants and needs isn’t wrong. I simply don’t know how. You’ve seen us. You’ve been with us, you’ve been _a part of us_ , and I don’t see what more I can do... “

“I just... I struggle to watch; I feel... not quite _excluded_ , but like I’ll never be exactly caught up with the cultural significance, and that’s to be expected, I suppose...”

He crossed his legs, still nervous, and sipped from the teacup Ekor provided him.

Ekor looked down at his hands. “I could pretend that this is all about Elim. I could tell you he needs both of us now -- it wouldn’t be a lie, he loves you deeply -- but...” Ekor took a deep breath. “The truth is, it’s not simply about Elim. I don’t want to lose you either, Julian.”

It was as simple as that. “I just don’t know if I can ask you to stay... knowing how you feel about Elim, and about me. It must be tearing you apart.”

“It’s just that I- I had my chance with Elim, and I failed him. And I wanted to try again, but it’s clear you’re so much better for him than I’d ever be.”

Julian frowned but then shook his head and cleared it away; that was too defeatist, surely.

“I mean - and I’m not trying to offend you, I probably already have anyway - but I want _something_ like what you and Elim have now, even if I don’t agree with every single component of it. I... I can’t really tell, yet.”

Julian was thinking of the time Elim had briefly acted as his submissive partner, before he ever met Ekor. Elim had been whiny, frankly, and demanding, and insisted on being hurt, which Julian did not want to do. So in response, Julian was abrasive and reluctant, and their relationship ended on poor terms. Perhaps if he knew better how to dominate, and if Elim learned how to exercise healthy boundaries... Ekor taught both of those things…

But Julian did not know how to explain this without making the divide worse. He sat quietly, sipping his tea and glancing to the viewport every so often. When he returned his attention to Ekor, his gaze was soft.

“I’m sorry for overstepping. Truly, I am.”

Ekor felt something soften inside him. This was not someone trying to steal his pet away from him; this was a man who was confused, conflicted and unsure, who was trying to figure himself out as much as help his friend. A man with abysmal timing, but ultimately, a man who -- perhaps -- even loved him.

“You wouldn’t be happy with what Elim and I have, Julian,” he said eventually, holding Julian’s gaze. There was pain in it, but this was not the sort of pain Ekor liked to inflict.

“You would end up feeling disenfranchised in Elim’s role, and eventually, you’d rebel all the time, and it would become a fight instead of a dance. And in mine...” Ekor closed his eyes. “You would end up resenting yourself for taking away someone’s power so completely. You would question yourself, ‘what gives me that right’, ‘how do I justify this’, and I could be wrong about this, but you already know exactly what it means to have a life in your hands, and you don’t want that sort of responsibility in your private life.”

“You’re right,” Julian sighed. “I wouldn’t take it seriously.”

Ekor crossed the room until he was standing in front of Julian, who had to crane his neck to look at him now. “Come, dear. Stand up for me?”

It was not a command, but Julian stood, holding his teacup between both hands. Ekor gently removed it and placed both their mugs in the replicator tray. Then, he stood close to Julian, leaning his chufa against his smooth, warm forehead. He imagined he could see a moist glitter in his eyes, but did not comment on it.

“We’re not going to solve this now,” he muttered, tracing the shell of Julian’s ears, eyes cast down to his lips. They looked so soft. “You overstepped, and we both know it. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a place with us. And the only way we’re going to figure that out, is one step at a time.”


	6. Reconciliatory Efforts

“Thank you, Ekor. I appreciate it.”

He was still being embraced, having his jawline stroked and his forehead pressed against, and he wanted to reciprocate. He did have a love of tactile sensation, and tended to enjoy this aspect of relationships; when they were new and full of energy.

Now, he had known Ekor for several months - almost a year, in fact - and they had been intimate before. But Elim always watched, and Julian knew enough about Ekor’s anatomy, and he simply did as he was told. But now, the thought he might like a chance to truly explore in return. It felt... casual.

“May I, Ekor?” He asked, patting at Ekor’s waist.

With permission, he squeezed the ridges hidden under Ekor’s shirt, and he kneaded them while he thought.

“Would it... maybe it would be better for me if I surrendered the role you gave me, and tried something different? Less... binding... _Sir_.”

He kissed gently at Ekor’s jaw, then bent to reach his throat, sucking carefully over his teeth.

Ekor let his hands roam Julian’s torso, slipping underneath his uniform jacket. They were so quiet now, both of them, taking their time. It seemed like every movement of their fingers was meaningful.

“If you think that would be best, Julian... it was always a matter of _your_ choice.” Ekor let his head fall backward as Julian’s mouth began to explore his neck. This was new, and just the two of them, and Ekor began to scent Julian, gently turning his head this way and that for access.

“I think it would be, Sir,” Julian replied, as he was scented. “Something more casual... like _this_... might do us a world of good.”

He liked this atmosphere better already - the orders were softened into suggestions, and the only pressure he felt came from within. He had the chance to please his partner without an audience, and he had not truly felt such a strong connection in several years.

“Make love to me, Julian,” Ekor said with much tenderness. Oh, he needed this now: to be able to simply enjoy the sensations of another caressing his body.

“I will, Ekor. I will... mmm, let me...”

Ekor felt tears in his eyes and a pressure on his chest. “Don’t leave,” he whispered. “Don’t leave…”

He pulled down the zipper of Julian’s shirt, exposing the skin underneath. Closing his eyes, he bent down to smell Julian’s skin, to let his lips wander that light brown expanse, to nip carefully and lightly at the smoothness that greeted him.

Ekor shrugged out of his vest and removed his tunic, then took Julian’s hands and placed them on his curving neck ridges. “Ohh,” he sighed at the sweetness of the touch, the warmth of Julian’s fingertips. “Mmmh... you feel... so good…”

He helped Ekor to finish with his undershirt, and he turned to set them both down on the shelf beside the bed. Then, as Ekor traced his skin, he let himself indulge; Ekor’s fingers were steady and pleasantly cool, and did not shudder at the softly protruding bones visible along his body.

When Ekor asked him, he touched Ekor’s shoulders and pectoral ridges, then his chest, trailing down gradually. They took their time and inhaled slowly, deeply, feeling the tension dissipate.

“So,” Julian began, “is this how you like to make up?”

He took a teasing swipe at the uppermost hem of Ekor’s trousers, then gripped it softly in preparation, awaiting agreement. While he waited, he saw no harm in pulling his own body flush to Ekor’s, letting them share gentle friction and heat. He was not hard yet, but he knew Ekor liked to _feel_ him, regardless.

“And might I be lucky enough to watch you evert today, Ekor?”

He remained patient regardless of the answer, and took to sucking gently on Ekor’s neck scales in the meantime, absolutely delighting in the throaty whimpers this brought forth.

“It’s... oh, Julian...” Those fingers at his middle, and those lips! They were heavenly, and Ekor shivered in delight at the sweet pleasure of it all.

“It’s not the worst way to make up, is it,” he said, wondering at how breathy his voice was already.

If Julian kept this up, he would have him panting and moaning in a shamefully short time. Already, Ekor felt his neck ridges swell thickly, and the more they did, the more sensitive to the touch they became.

Ekor slid his hand down to Julian’s crotch, biting his lips. What was normal for a Human, to a Cardassian felt obscene and provocative and, to Ekor, utterly, utterly lovely.

Julian wasn’t hard yet, but stirring, and Ekor couldn’t help but groan as he gripped the growing bulge through his uniform pants. He could make out the shape of Julian’s penis, bigger than his own even in its half-erect state…

Julian’s hands were still waiting patiently at the waist of his trousers, hovering only centimetres above his chuva. Ekor nodded. “Yes,” he said softly, “yes, please,” and then he suppressed a groan as Julian let go of his neck to kneel and push them down, taking his undergarment with them.

Gently, and before they could slip back into a more familiar dynamic, Ekor slipped his hand under Julian’s chin and helped him stand. He was such an enticing man. Beautiful and deceptively strong under that delicate skin.

He was a work of art.

With a sigh, Ekor gracefully dropped to his knees in turn, pulling the elastic band of Julian’s uniform pants over the gentle curve of his rear. As they pooled around his ankles, Ekor paused to nuzzle the front of Julian’s underwear. The man’s scent was heavy, musky and intoxicating, and Ekor moaned into the bulge in greedy anticipation.

Standing after a few long moments of deep breaths, of sucking air into his scenting glands that tasted of _Julian_ , of unashamed delight, Ekor guided them both to the guest bed, where they crawled onto the mattress, kneeling front to front.

Julian had eager, nimble hands, and in a moment of absurd serenity, it occurred to Ekor that this was something they had in common... but then all his thoughts flew out of his mind as Julian returned his attention to Ekor’s neck.

Julian rolled his hips into Ekor’s, then paused to kiss him on the mouth; he knew Ekor found the practice _soothing_ , and he could not say he disagreed. Then, purposefully, his lips trailed from there to Ekor’s neck scales, swelling and purpling by the second.

“Would you say this is your equivalent to an erection?” Julian asked, playful, but also genuinely curious.

He chose one of the darkest scales and applied his mouth to it, giving suction and warm strokes from his tongue. Ekor cried out at this, and it was beautiful.

“There’s no need to worry about waking Elim,” Julian explained, but then the subject made him question himself. “He wouldn’t... mind us doing this, would he?”

“No,” Ekor said. “I daresay it would excite him.”

Reassured, Julian returned to flicking the scales with his tongue, while his hand pinched at the other side of Ekor’s neck, running up and down the expanse as if to slick him up.

Sucking more forcefully again, Julian took a moment to cup himself in his hand and adjust his legs so he would be more comfortable. Ekor was already fully undressed, and Julian loved to feel that cool fluid dribbling from Ekor’s slit, even though he was still wearing his underwear. So he twisted enough to align his thigh, and he held firmly so Ekor could rub against him.

“I’ve never heard such music from you,” Julian remarked.

His lips were wet and tingling when he pulled back from Ekor’s neck in order to fully appreciate his moans. He turned to give the other side equal attention, now sliding his hand through his own saliva to slick the first side, pressing into hot, swollen scales. Curious, he pushed his finger into one, finding it soft until a certain point of resistance.

“This is...” Julian said breathlessly, “you feel just _perfect_ to me, Ekor. This texture is... _mmm_...”

Afraid of sounding too scientifically engaged, Julian returned his mouth to its duties, going on even as the quality of Ekor’s moans began to change.

Soon, he was erect himself, and his underwear began to annoy him. He slipped one hand inside, intending to make himself more comfortable before removing them entirely, but this gave him an idea. Perhaps a silly one, as he was certainly not _in charge_ here, but it sounded nice and appealing at the time…

“I want to see your cock come out, too,” he said, knowing Ekor enjoyed dirty talk.

It took a moment for Julian’s words to register through Ekor’s pleasurable haze, and another to realise that Julian was holding his dick _hostage_. Ekor licked his lips at the thought of what was just underneath that thin fabric. Oh, bad thought, he realised, whimpering softly as he imagined Julian’s hand wrapped around the flesh that he wanted so badly for himself.

“Then _make it_ come out,” he gasped, ready to crawl on all fours to get his hands, his mouth, mercies, his _face_ on Julian’s cock.

He gingerly traced the patterns that Julian’s mouth had made on his neck ridge, hissing as heat rose incandescent at the mere brush of his fingertips against those softened scales. He could not remember when they had last taken this exact shade, this supple, eager texture, and he could not remember when just the thought of hands on them had made him drip quite so amply.

Catching Julian’s free hand, he rubbed his fingers across the largest, most sensitive scales, wantonly pushing himself into the touch. “ _Hnnnnggggg_...”

Panting harshly, he took those fingers and trailed them to his chula, which was pulsing hard in time with his blood, and then his swollen chuva, only to dip the warm digits into the wetness of his slit.

Unable to stop himself, he rolled his hips into Julian’s thigh hard as his fingers entered a mere few centimetres, before they encountered the head of his dick, already well past the confines of the protective sheath inside.

“Make it... “ His eyes flew wide when Julian caught on, returning his attention to Ekor’s neck, “mercies, Julian!... if you...” he gasped as Julian pushed his thumb into the yielding, soft scales, breathing fast and deep, “oh good mercies, you’ll do more than... make my cock come out like that...!”

Ekor didn’t know how he managed to speak a coherent sentence, his mind was swimming, floating in a rush of intense sensation, and Julian grinned like he had just been given the key to some delicious secret. He started rubbing, and licking, and Ekor knew he would scream if Julian used teeth.

Ekor could not believe what was happening, and he would have flushed at his own indecency, had he not already been so aroused that it made no difference. Julian’s hands made him arch and writhe on his knees, spreading his thighs apart to welcome whatever intrusion might come -- and then he felt himself slip further out, and couldn’t hold it back anymore, he was everting, fully hard and purple and glistening.

“J...Julian!” he gasped, drawing the other man’s gaze down, “ _oh_....!”

Julian tipped his chin down in time to watch the eversion process, one he had _known_ but never witnessed; Ekor had always hidden himself and usually Elim from view. It was a private and vulnerable moment, and Julian felt powerful for commanding it and overseeing it. Then, he took on a more involved role, reaching down to stroke Ekor’s length within his encircled hand.

Ekor was firm, ridges flaring and standing to attention, and he was cool, and he was slick. Julian knew he had done a good job of arousing him, to find so much fluid gathered and waiting. He wanted very much to... yes, to put his mouth around it.

Ekor’s length was also relatively thin, and tapered from its head down to its shaft, and Julian paused his ministrations at Ekor’s neck to consider this option more seriously. He felt _alive_.

“Just a moment, Ekor,” he said, thumbing at his own waistband again, deciding what to do. “I want...”

When he nudged his body forward, Ekor did not resist him, and easily fell to lie on his back, spreading his legs _indecently_. His slit was left wide open and unguarded, and Julian knelt over him eagerly, tonguing the head of Ekor’s cock before sliding downward to take it into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he groaned around Ekor, taking him to the hilt without resistance, curling his tongue around the thick, flaring base.

Then he drew back and released his hold, and chose to nuzzle Ekor’s slit, while reaching to his underwear again and finally struggling out of them. Ekor was not able to feel or see his cock yet, but _soon_ …

He slipped his tongue between Ekor’s folds gradually, teasingly, and moaned at how sweet he found the taste.

“Do you want to touch me?” He asked, feeling satisfied with himself, almost _smug_. “I’ll let you - I _want_ you to - as soon as I’m done here...”

While he nipped at Ekor’s folds, he ran one hand much too gently over Ekor’s shaft, mirroring what he had done to each side of his neck, moments ago.

“Let me...” Ekor moaned; it was meant as protest but came out as a plea, and Ekor couldn’t bring himself to care. If Julian wanted to see him desperate... oh, but that cock! That wonderful, thick, hot... Ekor made an animalistic noise just thinking about it, somewhere between a growl and a whimper.

But then, all thoughts of what he wanted to do to Julian were pushed from his mind, because Julian’s tongue was between his legs, licking and burrowing into his slit.

Ekor swore obscenely under his breath in Kardasi.

He felt echoes of Julian’s hand on his cock right up on his neck, what a wonderful inversion of purpose and function, and what a rare state to be in.

Ekor held his breath, focusing on Julian’s tormenting, much too gentle fingers. He couldn’t bring himself to urge him on, lest he started to beg instead, so he bit his lip and held his breath and let Julian explore his throbbing, pulsating member.

“Fuck... _perfect_... Julian, fuck me...”

He moaned from the loss, as Julian took his mouth away from his aching slit.

“I think I will,” Julian grinned, “but not _there_.”

For a moment, Ekor thought Julian wanted his rear and felt a pang of regret that he could not accommodate him, but then Julian crawled on top of him, with his dick stiff and engorged, dangling between them. Ekor lifted his hips off the mattress to grind himself into Julian, rubbing his seam on his cock like a hound in heat.

But then, Julian’s hands were back at his neck, and his mouth, his breath smelling faintly of his own fluids, and Ekor could have wept with pleasure.

“I’ll fuck you so good, Ekor, using... just my hands and mouth... right here...” Julian’s voice didn’t betray his own arousal as much as Ekor’s did, but somehow that made him just burn higher.

Torn between exposing as much of his neck as he could, and desperately grinding his hips up to feel the head of Julian’s cock kiss his slit, Ekor moaned in frustration, but Julian was devoted to his neck now, and wouldn’t be coerced.

And Ekor’s slit twitched with arousal at the thought. “Yes,” he whispered, “yes, ye-esss…”

He returned to Ekor’s neck enthusiastically, thumbing and laving with his tongue simultaneously, teasing the same scales with each in quick succession. Ekor was quivering, whining out nonsense, and Julian had never felt quite so attractive.

“God, I wanna suck you off,” Julian mumbled into the swollen scales. “You might even taste better than Elim, you know...?”

He meant Ekor’s fluid, but his neck had a unique, almost salty quality, and Julian enjoyed it too.

“Get your hands on me,” Julian commanded, careful to keep his voice soft, almost a whisper. It was breathy and heated, but at least it was intelligible. Unlike Ekor’s; Julian adored it.

“You know where,” Julian added, because Ekor continued bucking his hips up to meet Julian’s cock. “I want your _hands_ there.”

When he got what he wanted, he returned to sucking on Ekor’s scales, pinching one between his fingers and then biting it, then soothing the place with his tongue.

He had never been able to express such confidence before, either alone with Elim, or with Elim and Ekor. And Ekor was an achingly handsome man…

“Go on,” he said coyly, “put me inside... let me fuck you...”

Ekor wrapped his hands around Julian’s cock, revelling in the feel, the smooth, hot skin, the veins, and the wrinkly, softer skin of his balls. He couldn’t see, but he felt it all, and spread his legs apart, breathing heavily as he imagined all the luscious detail of him.

“Whatever... happened... to sucking... me off,” he offered in mock-offense, but began to obey Julian’s order immediately.

The head was thicker than he normally took, and Ekor felt almost instantly full as Julian breached him, as fast as he dared to go. His face and mouth went slack with concentration as he lifted his legs, trembling, opening himself up, displaying his darkened, achingly flushed scaling to be invaded by that gorgeous... “f-feels... “

He couldn’t continue. Closing his eyes, he filled himself up further, open-mouthed and greedy, gasping with every centimetre that entered him. He cried out when Julian moved atop him, impossibly slowly, and it felt deep, but it could not have been, he still held a good bit of Julian’s length in his hands. Speak up, Julian was saying, prompting him with almost unbearable little thrusts.

“Goodness... perfect... deep... please…”

Oh, it made no sense, but Ekor burned, and he yearned to be filled and pounded. Julian was so... thick, Ekor had to use his fingers to spread his slit to make enough room for him to enter. He kept slipping in his own wetness, and it only made him want it more.

If most anyone but Elim could have seen him, they would have shamed him so mercilessly, but Ekor didn’t care, not if it felt this good to be fucked by a Human.

Then, at last, Julian was buried deep, and Ekor could not have taken more if he tried. He did, but succeeded only in more wanton display, more slick smearing his thighs, deeper trembling and twitching of his inner walls as they hugged the member inside him, ridged little spots rubbing up to it, begging it, “m-m-move.”

Ekor needed Julian’s mouth back on his neck, he knew he would go mad otherwise, and he desperately tugged at Julian’s head, pushing his face into his neck ridge, spasming in absolute delight at the feel of his hot breath. “Oh, mercies... “

He felt ready to tumble into a blissful void, but Julian had not even begun yet.

“Move?” Julian teased, rolling forward slowly. “ _Look at you_.”

Ekor was greedy underneath him, squirming and slicking his cock, stuffing it into himself. There was no place left for Julian to fill, and Ekor’s expression remained just as desperate, just as thrilling.

“You like that?” Julian asked, amused. “Tell me. Tell me how good it feels when I fuck you…”

Finally, Julian began to set a rhythm, steady and deep as Ekor requested. He groaned when his glans brushed the very base of Ekor’s opening, and it did so easily and frequently.

From there, he turned the sound into a bite, teasing the lower end of Ekor’s aural ridge before returning, once again, to his neck ridge.

“I think I’ll tell Elim about this,” Julian decided, squeezing scales from both sides at once. “I’m going to tell him you and I got over our disagreement. And then I’m going to tell him just how hard I fucked his _master_.”

Because he was not on the receiving end of the title, he said it with pride.

As Ekor whimpered and nodded, Julian felt a split-second of regret. Where was this side of him when Elim requested it, all those months ago when they were privately associated? Where was this confidence then? Such language had never come out of his mouth before. Ekor, somehow, was the idol who inspired it, inspired Julian to move past his own assumed physical confidence and into a new, freeing mental territory. Cardassians were _wonderful_ , that way.

While this introspection went on, he paid special attention to Ekor’s scales, massaging them in random patterns and intensities, then tracing them softly with his fingertips when Ekor’s breathing became too shallow. Then he thrusted forward again, hard, and aligned his mouth above Ekor’s throat, mesmerized by the throbbing crest of it.

“What if I were to mark you, hmm?” He asked, lowering his lips to capture this place. “Would Elim like that? Would _you_ ?”

A part of Ekor wanted it. A part of him wanted Julian to mark his throat, wanted to allow him to pretend at ownership. A part of him wanted to become as beautiful as Elim was for him.

“Oh... so you wanna _play_ ?” he gasped instead, hooking his ankles behind Julian and pulling him in. He felt his eyes roll back in his head at the impossibly deep penetration and his rhythm became erratic. He whispered a soft curse under his breath.

That was the only warning Julian got before Ekor craned his head up and buried his teeth in the soft flesh where Julian’s neckridge would be at its most sensitive, had he been Cardassian.

Growling, Ekor flipped them over, but Julian used his momentum to continue his movement. They ended up lying side by side, panting, biting at each other’s necks, marking each other all over, Julian held fast between Ekor’s thighs.

The new angle almost undid Ekor.

“F-fuck!” he gasped, “so good, Julian, so---“ Teeth came down on his ridge, and Ekor made a desperate, choked-off noise, somewhere between a moan and a wail. “--- _Go-ah!-ood_.”

Greedily, he sucked and bit at Julian’s neck and chest, and throat, and the doctor returned in kind everything that Ekor did, but it still wasn’t enough.

Ekor lifted his leg to give Julian more room, holding it up with his hands. “ _Harder_ , oh goodness, I---.” He felt an animalistic urge to display himself, his stretched and filled slit and his own cock, curving upwards, slapping against his belly with each roll of Julian’s hips.

Ekor’s world became pure sensation, the sharp nips and soft brushes of lips, the thrusts and his own spasmodic jerks, all converging, but still just beyond his reach. He broke. “Please,” he whispered, “please, harder, I _need_... to come, Julian... _make_ me.”

Julian’s lips spread into a thin, sly smile. This made it more difficult to breathe, but he wanted to be sure Ekor saw his expression, first, before he took in a sharp gasp.

“I will, _Sir_ ,” he said playfully, still unsure of his exact role in this situation.

He found the angle more pleasing on their sides, where Ekor could hold his legs open to ease Julian’s movement. He was able to thrust deep, holding their entire bodies together, biting fiercely at Ekor’s neck and shoulder.

Then, because he wanted to see just how much control he _had_ , he slowed his thrusts and softened his bites, turning them into the gentle suction Ekor had enjoyed earlier. Julian reached between their bodies and caressed Ekor’s cock in one hand, pumping the tapered head loosely, absently.

“I want your semen in my mouth,” Julian explained, gripping tightly around Ekor’s base, to stifle all three seminal ducts. “So you’re going to have to wait until I’m finished.”

He licked Ekor’s neck and nibbled softly at the darkest scales, hot and purple and crying out for his attention. Ekor’s cock felt heavy in his hand, spasming against his grip. Julian _loved_ the sensation of Ekor’s purse, ridged and slick and _deep_ , able to take all of him. He groaned into Ekor’s ear.

“I can spare you my usual endurance,” Julian said, offhandedly and without further explanation. “You tell me when you’re ready, and where you want me, and _then_ I’ll make you come.”

Oh, Ekor was ready then and there, but he gritted his teeth as he let Julian handle him, constrict him. “Do your worst,” he ground out, but his voice quivered, and he moaned loudly.

It had been so long since Ekor had endured this sort of pleasure, and he wanted it to last as long as he could

Julian grinned, and Ekor knew at that moment that he had no hope to outlast him, not even the slightest. Julian’s strokes were deep and steady, and his fingers merciless around the base of his shaft, and Ekor already ached to come so bad he wanted to scream. The pressure inside him was driving the words from his mouth and everything but need from his mind, and Ekor both loved and hated the fact that Julian knew.

Ekor’s cock was leaking semen, but he could not peak, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much pleasure Julian’s thrusts were giving him, and Julian knew exactly what he was doing to Ekor, how he was tormenting him. ‘You can stop this anytime,’ his gentle caresses whispered into his neck ridge, ‘you just need to say the word…’

But Ekor couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ say the word. His purse felt thick and _used_ , and his pleasure was bordering on pain with every desperate spasm and every drop of seed that dribbled down his shaft without providing relief.

It hurt, and it felt _wonderful_.

Undone, Ekor let his head fall forward against Julian’s chest, jostling against him from the force of his strokes. He whimpered every time the head of Julian’s cock bumped into his base, every time his body pulsed, trying futilely for climax. He bit down on Julian’s chest when his mind began to rush and there was no longer time.

“Julian!” Ekor gasped, wanting to say _stop_ , but his body didn’t speak that language anymore. He keened and wordlessly pulled Julian close, pushing his cock deep inside. “N-n-now...” he managed and hoped Julian would understand. “... purse…”

Climaxing, for Julian, was always a matter of great concentration. He and Elim had shared that - a need for multiple points of stimulation in order to truly find release. This, now, with Ekor, had showed him _everything_ he wanted. Ekor forgave him, allowed him to _play_ , to be tough, and to be tender.

“I will, dear,” Julian said, kissing one of the sore bites he had left on Ekor’s throat.

He kept their chests in contact, and did as Ekor told him. He enjoyed holding his lover close, which he never got to do with Elim. Not that there was any resentment there, but it made the scene with Ekor feel that much sweeter.

Julian kissed Ekor softly and stroked his hair as he finished, deep inside, before pulling out and pumping the final threads into Ekor’s chuva. Ekor squirmed at the sudden onslaught of heat, and Julian grabbed his thighs tightly while he thrashed.

“In my mouth,” Julian repeated, in a commanding growl.

Then he forced Ekor to lie on his back once more, and he lowered his mouth over Ekor’s throbbing cock, tasting the sweet overtones of his precursory fluid.

“Give it to me,” he said, before taking Ekor’s whole length.

Ekor cried out, rolling his hips before he could stop himself, and then, after a split second, he realised he didn’t have to. Julian had his lips wrapped around his cock, tongue and throat working, and was looking up at Ekor with an utterly charmed, satisfied expression.

He nearly came on the spot. The heat was heavenly, and the suction... Ekor whimpered, groping for purchase with his fingers, touching a delicate earshell. Merciful Peace, it was going to shatter him.

He groaned as Julian began bobbing his head, sucking gently on his cock, laving it with his tongue and nipping at its ridges. Ekor was sure he had never seen it disappear into a mouth so darkened, and the urge to thrust overwhelmed what little control he had left.

“Oh, fuck,” he swore, tightening his hand on the doctor’s head and thrusting to the hilt, over and over, feeling his pleasure begin to crest. Ekor marvelled at Julian who just held onto him, taking him in as if it was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Ekor’s penis was leaking semen steadily, and Julian licked it off him, flicking a greedy tongue against his ridges and duct openings, coaxing more from him, leaving him shaking, dancing on the brittle edge of pure bliss.

“Mmmmnnngh!” Ekor groaned wordlessly as Julian pulled him into his throat, scraping his sensitised head past the ridged, hard roof of his mouth. Ekor’s muscles tensed, and for a few seconds he was floating, knowing that he couldn’t hold back if he tried.

He burst, breaking into a million pieces as he came hard and his whole body shook. His chu’en, even the scales on his neck were pulsing in time with the semen spurting from his cock and into the welcoming warmth of Julian’s sensuous mouth.

Ekor screamed.

Julian withdrew, swallowed, and licked his lips. Ekor was still leaking fluids, and Julian continued lapping at him playfully, until he seemed to be all through. Then, gently, he gripped the ridges lining Ekor’s waist and pulled himself up to rest over Ekor’s chest. He wanted to hold him close and fall asleep together.

“Thank you,” Julian said, waiting to see if Ekor would mind kissing him on the mouth. “I’m glad we got that out of our systems.”

He chuckled amiably and then sucked at the base of Ekor’s aural ridge, needing to keep his mouth occupied until his head had cleared.

He held onto Ekor’s cock loosely, enjoying the gentle pulsation of the ridges as it slowed and softened again.

“I think you’re brilliant, by the way. At, um, _this_.”

“At being fucked into tomorrow?” Ekor said, looking down at Julian who was lying atop him. He straightened out his legs languidly, groaning as his muscles relaxed and stretched.

“Goodness, I needed that,” he said, about the fucking. Gingerly, he traced his own neck, feeling the bite marks and bruises Julian had left there -- but Ekor had given as good as he got, and Julian’s skin was mottled with marks as well…

Ekor felt deliciously sore.

“I’m happy to help,” Julian teased “I imagine Elim hasn’t been up for anything like that lately...”

He captured Julian’s lips in a tender kiss contrasting their aggressive biting from before. He tasted traces of his ejaculate. “Mmmmh...” Ekor pushed his tongue inside, exploring the taste and scent of himself on Julian. “Ohh…”

“Should I get you cleaned up?” Julian smiled, taking equal joy in the activity that Ekor did. “I’ll be honest, I’d rather like a cuddle, but we really should go and check on Elim.”

He knew he should get cleaned up, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. “Are you offering?” he asked, gesturing down to his slit. Their combined fluids were spilling from the opening as his penis began to retract. “We can look after Elim later, and if you want, you could join us in bed.”

He noticed that he rather relished the prospect of sleeping in Julian’s arms. Perhaps he should tell him? “I’d like that,” he added, just to make sure.

“And then tomorrow, we work out a solution for Elim...” _And for ourselves_ , was implied but remained unspoken.

He cupped Ekor’s slit, feeling the pulsing and the heat of his own fluid as it dribbled out.

“I was offering,” Julian clarified. “I enjoy it. And I’ve got a dermal regenerator with me, as well, unless you want to keep yours...?”

He touched the darkest bruise he had left on Ekor’s body, at a soft point on his throat. Then he felt around for his own, pinching gently at the inflamed skin, trying to decide if his could be hidden in time for his next shift; he wanted to keep them, himself.

While Ekor lounged on the bed, Julian quietly retrieved his regenerator, and then prepared a wet towel in the bathroom in order to clean out Ekor’s slit. Then he approached slowly, touching Ekor’s thigh with his palm, nudging Ekor’s legs open gradually.

“Let me know if this is too cold,” Julian said, pressing the corner of the towel against Ekor’s seam before moving inside.

Lovingly, and very carefully, he spread Ekor’s folds with his fingers and wiped away the fluid. Ekor’s length was gradually retracting, and Julian encircled it softly within the towel before the process was finished.

“Should we go into the other bedroom, then?” He asked when he was done. “Let me help you up. I would love to join you in bed, if I’m welcome.”

Ekor took Julian’s offered hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. Then, he cupped Julian’s face between his hands and searched his eyes. There was some of Julian’s playful submission in them, but mostly, he was just curious and a bit bold. Ekor smiled.

“You’ll be fine, dear,” he affirmed, “and if you weren’t welcome to it, I would not have offered our bed.”

He and Ekor moved at a leisurely pace from the guestroom, down the hall to the Master bedroom. Elim was still asleep on his side of the bed, looking quite peaceful.

Elim awoke once during the night, when the hypo had worn off completely.  Immediately, he turned over to look for reassurance from Ekor - they often fell asleep facing opposite ways, for Elim’s comfort.

When he scooted closer, nestling into Ekor’s arms, he noticed Julian laying on the other side of Ekor, his chest pressed tight to Ekor’s back.  Focusing his gaze in the darkness, he found purple bruises all along Ekor’s uncovered chest and neck, and he touched them reverently. Ekor mumbled softly in his sleep, something ending with ‘little one.’

“I’m glad, Sir,” Elim observed, before guiding Ekor’s arms around his own midsection, and falling asleep again, unassisted.


	7. Epilogue

Evening sunlight was filtering through the delicate curtains that separated the patio from the inside of the apartment. The fabric was fluttering in the wind that graced the tops of the high-rise buildings in the capital, providing relief from the oppressive, dusty heat.

Elim was working at a little table by the window, cutting herbs and watering plants that grew in pots filled with soils they had collected over the years.

Ekor stretched, stiff joints protesting as he put his PADD away. He was just about to retreat to the kitchen to prepare a light evening meal for himself and Elim, when he felt his husband’s grasp on his arm, light but insistent.

“What is it, Elim’ik?” he asked.

“Sir, I…” Elim blinked rapidly, his throat working, but he couldn’t speak.

Tenderly, Ekor took Elim’s head between his hands, stroking the greying temples. “It’s alright, Elim’ik. It’ll be over soon… Go to the bathroom and fetch the large cleaning bucket. Bring it to me.”

The withdrawals had never completely disappeared. They had become rarer over time, and shorter in duration, but they would still take hold of his Elim from time to time. Elim’s thoughts would begin to flutter and race in his mind, and within minutes, he would become paralysed to voice himself, to make decisions, to even think one clear thought.

There was no rational reason, no specific cause to them. They would simply come, even with medication.

And then Ekor would take Elim’s hand and start giving him simple, step by step orders. They had found that under specific enough orders, Elim would instinctively listen and focus solely on the obedience he owed; that he would slowly calm and resurface after a while.

“Open the bottle of cleaner, Elim’ik. When you're done, pour three caps of detergent into the bucket.”

Every one of Elim’s movements was deliberate and slow, and Ekor sat patiently, only handing him some things when he deemed it necessary. Otherwise, he focused on Elim’s breathing, sliding his own into unison and slowly bringing them both down to a more normal speed.

As per Ekor’s order, Elim requested the replicator to provide eight litres of water, 60 degrees centigrade; Ekor pulled the curtains open and handed Elim a rag. “Soak it in the water. Swirl it around so that the detergent diffuses… that’s it, Elim’ik.”

Step by step, Ekor instructed Elim to clean the glasswork mosaic on the patio doors, panel by panel, inside and out.

He had become good at finding work for Elim to do when the withdrawals would come. It wasn’t so important what he would have him do, as it was that he gave specific and detailed instructions that would allow him to relax. But, as a courtesy to Elim, Ekor always tried to give him something practical do do, so that he wouldn’t feel burdensome.

They had had that fight, of course. It had been one of the worse fights they’d had. After one particularly harsh withdrawal, Elim had felt so very useless. And then he had caught Ekor staring at his reflection in the mirror, exhaustion coming off him in waves, and he knew he was the one causing it. He was the one draining his Master, and he felt so deeply ashamed of putting him through this, for nothing, with no gain for Ekor, nothing to help him at all.

When he had voiced his thoughts, they fought. Ekor did not deny the obvious truth. Yes, he was tired, exhausted, sometimes even desperately so, but he would not let Elim feel this bad about something he, Ekor, considered inevitable and nothing more than his duty.

Elim wouldn’t accept that, in turn countering that if he could not serve Ekor, he was stealing his purpose, and how could Ekor not see that?

The argued back and forth, until Ekor simply told Elim to accept his sacrifice. “Take it,” he had said, “if not because you agree, then simply because I ask you to.”

Elim had gone quiet then, and when he spoke again, he had quietly, earnestly suggested he leave, for Ekor’s sake.

It was the one right he was given by law to exercise on his own behalf, regardless of the circumstance, with or without Ekor’s approval -- and it was irreversible.

There had been an awful silence. They had stared at each other, Elim with soft, compassionate eyes, and Ekor with nothing but despair. “No, please don’t,” he had whispered, “please don’t do this.” And then Ekor had gone down on his knees and begged him with tears spilling from his eyes, and Elim, to his own shame, found that he simply couldn’t.

And he had done the selfish thing, and stayed.

Since then, many years had passed by, and Ekor had found ways to heal. Whenever the withdrawals came, he would find something small, something useful for Elim to do, something that would otherwise just have to wait.

Cleaning the mosaic meticulously took a lot of time, and after a while, Elim began to look peaceful as he worked. Ekor knew it would be a little longer until he was able to find his mind patterns undisturbed once more, but the worst was over.

Much later, when they had taken their evening meal in silence, Ekor sat on the bed and waited for Elim to join him. Elim dropped his robe and climbed onto the bed naked, curling up in his lap. Ekor gently stroked his hair, his shoulders and neck, and Elim gave a little relieved sigh.

“Thank you for your service, little one” Ekor said softly.

Elim kissed his hand.


End file.
